


Beginnings and Odd Endings

by Book_of_Kells



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Adultery, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Explicit Sexual Content, Extremely Dubious Consent, F/M, Multi, Not Beta Read, Other, Parent/Child Incest, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-09
Updated: 2015-11-28
Packaged: 2018-04-30 19:42:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 20,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5177342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Book_of_Kells/pseuds/Book_of_Kells
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>a series of one shots, Drabbles..stories that would take a year to write properly....</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. High School AU

**Author's Note:**

> Kili/Tauriel, Arwen/Aragorn (Arwen is kinda a slut)

“Whore!”

“Lesbian!”

“Cheerleading is not a real sport!”

“You take that back!” Arwen shook her curling iron at her heckler from the other side of the beds. “Just because I don’t go all butch does not make me less of an athlete.”

The taller brunette was grabbing things out of her bag, at least one conniption fit away from girly throwing them at her roommate. Dressed in a dark blue sweater, Arwen Riverdale with her covergirl looks and collagen lips was the very poster girl of what every American teenaged female wanted to look like and emulate. Well, not all females. As head of the Arda cheer squad, Arwen decided who got elevated and who didn’t. Mostly it was friends of her father’s clients.

Tauriel crossed her arms. “Please, I saw the jar of industrial wax for that bush your smuggling between your legs. You wouldn’t know butch if it slapped you across the tits!”

“At least I have tits! You look like an underfed ten year old boy!” Arwen snarked at Tauriel as she pulled yet another hair torturing device from her toiletry suitcase. Honestly, the amount of time she used to primp and pamper you could knit a sweater!

“Not everyone asks for boobs for their birthday.” Tauriel defended, fighting the instinctual urge to look down her large B cups. “Or gets them from their creepy grandfather. “

“My grandfather isn’t creepy! He is overcompensating because my mother left!” Arwen’s brow pinched at her words though Tauriel knew the truth. Arwen’s mother had been institutionalized but that didn’t give her a pass on the attitude.

“Creepy or not, those things can qualify as floatation devices!” Tauriel flicked her hand at Arwen’s chest dismissively. She looked like Oversexed Barbie!

“Yes! And if you will get lost for an hour or two, Aragorn can motorboat them to his heart’s content!” The brunette pulled out a lavender teddy with a matching peignoir. Where she had picked up such slinky lingerie under her very strict father’s nose was beyond Tauriel’s ability to comprehend.

Tauriel just shook her head as she dug into her own bag. “Hour or two, my ass! Tell that to someone who will swallow it, or someone who might swallow less than you! The moment I step out that door, you will throw the bolt and I will be sleeping in the lobby! No way!”

Tauriel Greenlea began piling her clothes out of her old beat up suitcase as she looked at the hanging clothes bag beside it. Thranduil Mirkwood, her foster dad, had insisted she go on the senior ski trip despite all arguments to the contrary. He had even taken her shopping but she hadn’t been fooled by the new wardrobe. Tauriel wasn’t going to spy on his son, Legolas, for him, no matter how nice the boots were.

Leg was a good guy, a little doofy at times. He helped her get on the School’s Archery team three years ago when she had moved in with them. It had been an awkward time for her, losing her family in a car crash. But the tall gangly blond had there for her by just giving a shoulder to cry on when the memories swamped her. Legolas was completely selfless that way, not acting like the brat he could have been with all that privilege money could give. It was one of the reasons that Arwen’s shit annoyed her to no end. The skank was too used to getting her own way by guilting her rich family.

The Arda Academy sponsored a trip each year to White Mountain Ski resort in Bree, West Virginia. Only seniors were allowed or the ones that were going to graduate. The chaperones knew what they were doing when the roommates were drawn by lottery, girls and boys separated. Arwen’s dad, Elrond Riverdale was supposed to be a chaperone for this week but he had suddenly come down with a nasty case of flu and backed out. Tauriel wouldn’t put it past the conniving witch to have lightly poisoned the nice man to keep him home.

“I want my Aragorn time!” The decibel level was getting higher, meaning Tauriel was starting to piss her off.

The petulant expression on the brunette’s face was comical in another life but since Arwen was her roommate, escape was going to be impossible. Nettling her had been fun for the first twenty minutes but now that high screech was capable of breaking glass.

“If the rumors are true, you have Aragorn time everyday just after lunch in the music room!” Tauriel pulled out her modest makeup case, never having found the knack for successful application. Pale skin with dark red hair didn’t make it easy either.

“Then you can understand why having a bed is so important!” Arwen swept her arm along the length of the bed like a model showing off a new car. “I swear I just want an hour or two, really. Didn’t one of your girlfriends come? You can go lick the carpet for a while.”

“Insulting me is not the way to get me to leave.” Tauriel snorted at her while mentally adding, I don’t have friend here except my foster brother. The pity party Tauriel was dancing too caused her to miss the gleam in the spoiled little rich girl’s eye.

It had been hard for Tauriel, being an outsider at a posh private school. She had not known everyone since birth, missed the sleepovers and birthday parties as they grew up. A new high school isn’t always the best place to make new friends if you are shy, worse if it is brimming with spoiled babies. Annapolis Maryland was not DC but it was close enough to count with a small town feel. With vicinity comes money. Many of the students knew each other via the associations of their parents, or relatives. Tauriel had not understood the inured feeling of knowing your place amongst these people after living in North Carolina for the first fourteen years of her life.

“I will let you go down on me after he leaves. Nobody will know.” Arwen gave her a sexy seductive smile as she pumped up her sized D balloons that looked frightening on her emaciated size 4 frame.

Tauriel felt herself throw up a little at the thought. “I am into men, dumb twat!” Well, one particular guy but she was trying and failing on that front.

“Right, I never see you with any! Even the grungy kids!” Arwen looked slightly disappointed which scared Tauriel a little. The redhead turned away to start hanging up her clothes, trying to get some space.

Tauriel ran through the scenario of being a pathetic loser for sleeping in the lobby. Thranduil had paid for her spot, which included the comfy bed below her suitcase. The buses had arrived later than planned due to a pile up on the Interstate 66 where it joined I-81. The driver had pulled over to let them eat some lunch while he tried to find another route into the West Virginia. They had lost four hours on back roads trying to make up time but the sun had just been setting when they had pulled up to the lodge. The staff had been alerted, many stood outside in the low temperatures to assist the pampered kids inside and get them settled.

The slopes outside were off limits to them tonight, the chaperones wanting some sleep. While it was impossible to keep everyone locked in their rooms, the staff would let the minders know if the kids were up to no good. The strict Elrond Riverdale had not made the trip but Denethor Steward had come with his son, Faramir, who was a senior. He would be drunk in the bar downstairs most of the night, regaling anyone who would hear about old war stories and his perfect eldest son, Boromir. Thranduil looked like the fairy godmother next to him, bippity boppity boop!

“Just because I don’t walk around with my mouth open with a sign underneath saying ‘free parking’ doesn’t mean I am a lesbian.” Tauriel groused at her roommate. She liked a guy, he just didn’t seem to like her back.

Arwen began taking off her clothes with absolutely no shame. Perhaps sleeping with most of the faculty helped you get past being body conscious, Tauriel thought as a blush crept up her neck to heat her face. The idea of being so free with her body didn’t give her the warm and fuzzies, just cold chills. It was one of the many things she wanted to experience but wasn’t sure of the right ‘when’. Tauriel didn’t consider herself a prude but looking at her wardrobe in her closet, she wasn’t on the cutting edge of style either. Functional colors, solids, no crazy neons or animal prints. Dark greens, browns with a few navy or winter white cardigans. Even her ski gear was black and green.

A knock on the door stopped the spat between them. Little miss goodie two shoes couldn’t let the adults think she was anything but a wonderful All American girl. There was a curfew of eleven for the seniors even though at home most don’t have one at all. The chaperones on the bus told them all, they would check to make sure everyone was where they were supposed to be before the curfew. So when Tauriel opened the room door, she was surprised to see Haldir on the other side.

“I could hear you out in the hall.” He smirked as he leaned on the door jam.

“You can have my bed tonight if I can have yours.” Tauriel was willing to sleep with a troll in the next bed if it got her out of this room.

Haldir looked past her with a slight twist of his beautifully sculpted lips. The wheat colored turtleneck stretched to his frame in all the right places. His long blond hair was pulled back at the nap to hang down his back. A cousin of Legolas’, the two of them hung together as best friends since the womb. He was practically Thranduil’s second son, staying over on weekends once Haldir was elected co-captain of the Archery team with Legolas. He had a dry wit that made Tauriel smile.

“No, been there, fucked that. Besides, I am with Frodo down the hall. Right now he is giving himself a pedicure.” Haldir shuddered with a look of distaste. “You should see the toenails flying willy nilly!”

“Heterosexual men do not use the term ‘willy nilly’.” Arwen snarked as she walked up behind Tauriel, closing her black silk robe.

“Ahh Arwen. After a weekend with that venus flytrap of yours, I am surprised I’m still hetero. I don’t like my sensitive manly bits around fangs.” Haldir gave her a nasty smile which she returned.

“When did you grow manly bits? Have you hit puberty and I didn’t hear?” At least, she was wearing clothes now Tauriel thought with a grimace.

Arwen’s venom found another target but Haldir wouldn’t stand her for long. He was amusing himself if the relaxed pose was any indication. Though the fact that he had a weekend in Arwen’s sexual circus was a surprise. Any thought Tauriel had of ever flirting with Mr. All-About-Me was no longer a possibility.

“Yes, you seem to think the younger they are the more you can train them. Men are not dogs, Arwen. Though I thought you might be a bitch in heat.” The byplay was hilarious, Arwen was really getting her feathers ruffled.

“Not for you. So, you’re rooming with one of the Lollipop Guild? Do you get to use his head like a coaster while he blows you?” The evil grin got bigger as she leaned close to the wall.

“Frodo is not a Little Person! He and his family are just shorter than the national average.” Tauriel liked the little guy and his cousins, so defending them was a no brainer. They were always nice and polite to her on the campus.

“Gods, not you too!” Arwen snickered. “But then he is from your section of bumfuck Egypt, isn’t he? Mississippi or something? Places where you go to family reunions to find your baby’s daddy?”

“He’s from Kentucky if you bothered to looked beyond the end of your own cunt.” Tauriel fired back at her as the brunette turned away.

“I speak from experience that cunt has not end. A true abyss!” Haldir snarked at the scowling Arwen who walked back to her unpacking. “You remember what Nietzsche said about the abyss?”

“What do you want since you won’t be getting laid in this room?” Arwen slammed the Louis Vuitton suitcase closed.

Haldir chuckled as he turned to Tauriel. “Legolas wanted to make sure you were settled. I told him I would stop by.”

Tauriel looked at him then to Arwen who she secretly wanted to strangle. “uh.. yeah. I’m good.”

With his mission accomplished, Haldir left as some guys ran down the hall, shouting at each other. They must not have been wearing much because the adult were yelling at them from the other end of the long hall about clothes. Tauriel closed the door as she took a deep breath. The new bane of her existence grumbled from her side of the room, brushing her hair with furious strokes.

The room itself was very nice, not the best ever but pretty with the rustic lodge feel. The dark wood paneling at the bottom with swirls of different beige colors, tan and white above the wood that circled the room with the prerequisite splashes of bold color on the bedspreads. The hardwood furniture didn’t look like laminate cheap pieces but real and heavy. The idea came to mind for taking a chair and hitting the troublesome twit with it made Tauriel smile. Violence might not solve everything but it could make you smile faster than Christmas mornings.

“Alright.” Arwen huffed a sigh as she changed into a red teddy forgoing the lavender set. “I am not above money. How much will it take to make you go away? You’re an orphan so you probably need the cash.”

Tauriel blushed beet red in embarrassment, not for only being subjected to a nude cheerleader that peeved her to no end but the bribe! She could take her money and stuff it up her well used vagina!

“You have no money that I want nor is there any likelihood of getting sex from me or to me. Again, I am interested in men!” Why does the twit always circle back to sex or money? “Why don’t you go to his room? You might get lucky with his roommate too.”

The brunette looked at herself in the full length mirror on the side of the wall, twisting to look at her legs. Unfortunately, she did have long muscular legs. The cheer squad at school would run laps around the soccer field, more so than the players. They may not eat healthy but they made every effort pour themselves into their uniforms. Grabbing her sleep pants and wife beater, Tauriel walked into the bathroom to change.

Arwen’s reply stopped her. “My Aragorn is rooming with the roughneck. Apparently, the stunted pain in the ass just got some new computers or something and refuses to leave us the room. Something about he thinks Aragorn and I will stream porn on them. Like Aragorn would want to watch other women with me naked in the room!”

Tauriel shut the door, trying not to slam. The urge to call her foster dad and demand a ticket home was strong, almost choking her. How she would get through until Sunday without murder would be very hard indeed. The idea of the trip was a good one, a ski lodge, winter. The seniors left the day after Christmas and returning home the day after New Year’s. School didn’t resume again until after January 5th due to some religious undertone that Tauriel failed to understand. But the parents got a break, the kids had some fun. A win win situation unless you had a roommate straight out of Hell’s whorehouse.

As she pulled on the wife beater over one of her old sports bras, Tauriel heard the door open outside and some muffled giggling. Probably one of Arwen’s buddies to help her get ready for whatever, Tauriel thought as she walked out of the bath. A tall guy was standing in the room, blocking Tauriel’s view of the evil hussy in purple. It took her a minute to figure it out but a bolt of rage cut through when she recognized him.

Aragorn Elessar was a forgotten heir to a lost kingdom somewhere in eastern Europe. The Germans had kicked his family out before the Great War while the Soviets made sure they didn’t come back. It left the Elessars somewhat rootless as they travelled from place to place while their home had been destroyed. There were traces of his Slavic ancestry in the high cheekbones like sharp blades cutting into his skull. The hair was dark brown, long so that it hung dramatically about his shoulders. He wasn’t broad in the body, but he could be in a few years. He was always eating at school though never seemed to gain weight.

Arwen peeked around him. “I told him you wouldn’t leave. So you get to watch the show!”

The taller girl whipped Aragorn’s shirt off with a laugh as she watched Tauriel’s face. The brunette wasn’t as tall as him, even in her heels. Arwen’s blood red nails contrasted with the bronzed color on his muscular back as she ran her hands up and down as she kissed him. It wasn’t really erotic to Tauriel, not when she was as mad as she was. The only thing Aragorn was wearing was a pair of long gym shorts, thankfully she wasn’t getting an eyeful of what he sported in the front.  

“Wait! Hold it right there! I am not going to be subjected to your porn show!” Tauriel put her hands on her hips, trying not to scream at the couple. “I do not agree!”

“Honestly babe. I gots to go with the ginger! I want one woman only tonight.” Aragorn picked Arwen up by her ass as she squealed.

“I never said you were getting a menage!” Arwen moaned as Aragorn nipped under her ear. “If you were, I would not ask the lesbian roomie!”

“You have a flat ass. If you quit vomiting after meals, it might grow a little.” Tauriel snarled as she watched the brunette wind her legs around her lover’s waist.

“Wait!” Aragorn cut off whatever snark, the bimbo was aiming her way. He fished out his key card, handing it to Tauriel. “Room 209 on the end. Hang out with my roomie.”

Aragorn turned back to the kudzu that was writhing up his body. Tauriel was beyond pissed now.

“So you are trying to pawn me off on your roommate? The one that wouldn’t vacate for you two?” She shook the card at them as Aragorn blew out a tired breath. If the roommate didn’t want to leave for them, why would he suddenly be ok with company?

“Look, you know him. He’s on your Archery team. Killian or Kevin something something..” Aragorn moved his hands that made Arwen squeal then moan but Tauriel wasn’t paying them any attention now.

“Kili Niari?” Struggling to remain calm in the face of certain disaster, Tauriel flicked an eyebrow in their direction. Her heart felt like it was leaping out of her ribcage.

The last thing Tauriel needed was this bottom feeder knowing that she had a secret crush on the guy. Kili was so cute with the best smile! She loved to watch his muscles stretch across his chest when he pulled his bow back. Some days she followed him in the halls, watching him with his friends and generally stalking him with all the subtly of an alligator playing a banjo in a classical symphony. Oh and his laugh, never failed to give her chills of happiness.

“Yes, oh Yes! That oil diggers kid..”Arwen was shifting against Aragorn as he growled at her.

“Ok…If I do this, you loadbearing heifer, you will owe me big!” Tauriel pulled out her cell and snapped a picture of the two of them dry humping in the middle of the room.

“Hey!” Arwen screamed at her with a look of outrage as Tauriel took another.

“Insurance! Deal? You owe me?” Tauriel looked at her with a calm resoluteness that wasn’t really what she was feeling.

“Yes!” Arwen spat her before pulling Aragorn down for another kiss.

Tauriel threw on a black Northface pullover as she left the room. There were people and students milling up and down the hall, mostly seeing who was rooming with who if they didn’t already know. The chaperones’ room doors in the middle were wedged open so they could keep an eye on everyone. Mr. Steward was rooming with his son, Faramir but the door was closed so the big lush may already be downstairs.

When she arrived at room 209, Tauriel held her breath and knocked.

**************

I’m not a nerd, Kili thought as he pulled up a pic folder on his tablet. His new netbook was sitting on the desk, running updates on the hotel wifi system. Various cables and chargers lay clumped and twisted behind the new shiny computer, looking like a mess of baby black snakes. Kili figured it was overkill, between his netbook, ipad, cellphone, jailedbreaked iphone but he might decide to go online and hotel internet was notoriously spotty.

Just to torture himself while he waited for the update to finish, Kili pulled up _her_ folder. The mysterious beautiful her. Tauriel Greenlea. She had not been on his bus on the drive down but Tauriel had been in the Lobby when they were checking in. Curvy, redheaded, he got harder than steel whenever she was around. One day she had brushed by him, murmuring apologies but not able to look him in the eye. His head flopped on his shoulders in the semblance of a nod before he had shot the bathroom to calm down with her smell still in his nose. Pine and roses, there was a party in his boxers just remembering!

Tauriel had been on the Archery team for the last three years that had amounted to living hell for him. He couldn’t speak to her without almost shitting himself.   His brother, Fili, gave him shit all the way about the goofy smiles he wore after practice. Just seeing her form, watching her move. It was poetry in motion. Kili had copies of pics he had found online from matches and vids from practice saved for the quiet moments where he just be alone and watch.

A knock at the door interrupted the downhill slide into smutville, a wonderful place to visit with a woman that made his cock tingle. Groaning, he rolled out of bed to see who was bothering him. Aragon had left not long ago with a smile and fist full of condoms. Kili hated to tell him that it would probably take all of the manhole covers to satisfy that female. He had the misfortune once of walking in on Arwen with one of the teachers. It looked more backdoor than front porch from his viewpoint but really she didn’t seem to mind and neither did Mr. Saruman. There was no way he was leaving his room and his bed around that slut.

Opening the door, his breath stopped in his chest. The woman of his dreams stood on the threshold with a tentative smile. “Hi! Aragorn gave me his room key so he could have some alone time with Arwen.” The smile wavered as she continued to lisp along. “Arwen is my roommate and ..could I hang out here for a while?”

Kili did his best impression of a bobble head doll and motioned her inside with a big smile. Yes, he thought, there is a god!

 

 

 

 


	2. Slavery AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tauriel/Thranduil...Tauriel/Legolas
> 
> Lots of smut

His fingers would leave bruises on her hips, so hard did he grasp her body to hold her still as he fucked her mercilessly. The pleasure she felt at the onset of congress had long since turned to pain when he had left the warm recesses of her cunt to delve purposely into her anus. There had been no word from her to stop him, none existed in her vocabulary. She was a Silvan, born to serve the Elven King in any capacity he chose. Even if it meant serving the throne on her knees or on her back.

There has to be a different life than this, she thought as Thranduil grunted like his Elk, thrusting deeply as he released in her bowels. The release and exertion had left them both sweaty, sprawled across the sheets of his bed in a filthy display. Still propped on her hands and knees before him, Tauriel felt his hand slide the length of her back in a stroking caress. The hand wandered her body to trace the lines of her belly up to her stiff nipples then back to her belly chain. The medallion embossed on both sides claimed her body for the Royal Sindarins. None could touch her without permission of the Elven King or Prince Legolas.

“You did not spend for me?” He murmured in her ear, nipping at the lobe.

Wicked fingers found her clit still hard, peaking from her soaked folds to beg for attention. Any attention. He circled the rigid flesh slowly, a dancing touch that was a warning as much as it was caring. His capacious nature demanded things that she couldn’t anticipate on her better days, much less here and now in his rooms. The long slender finger worried her button as it's mates scratched at her furrow. The ache in her body of denied release flushed her skin as a low moan escaped her mouth. His cock in her ass had not deflated completely, still semi interested in their continued movements.

Thranduil ground his hips to hers with a growl. “Give me your release!”

A command. An order she couldn’t ignore after five hundred years bound to him, her body bucked against his when he pinched her clit. Tauriel rode the softening cock in her ass while Thranduil rubbed her in time with her shaking hips. The loud whine of completion burst from her lips as she tossed her head back as Thranduil nipped and licked at her ear.

“Ahh Tauriel, such a good Elleth.” Her King and master praised as he withdrew from her body at last, leaving her a destroyed mess on his coverlet. The sated crooning from her lips would be embarrassing in any other situation.

He walked to his bathing pool at the side of the room, stepping down into its shallow depths. As a Sindarin, he was a taller than those of the court, making the pool that much smaller. They fucked often in that pool, she thought as she turned to watch him. Thranduil would bend her over the padded siding or make her mount him, riding his thick member until there was more water on the floor than in the bath. This wasn’t love, it was about power, Sindarin power over his Silvan slave. He would also take her deeper from that angle too, the head of his cock brushing her womb at each stroke.

Her King didn’t mind that she stared, so she did with open intensity. His body was hard with ropes of muscles sheeted by pale skin. Watching him bath brought her no pleasure or elevated her desire in any fashion. Her body would cool to its normal state once she was away from him and her services were no longer required. Tauriel would await her next summons with quiet fortitude and not think on matters that were beyond her control. The Elleth didn’t love her King though she obeyed like any good Silvan would. She gave her body but not her heart. Never that. She could never be so foolish.

The she Elf rose with what little grace she could muster, crawling to the edge of the bed to test her weight on coltish legs. Her bottom burned still from his thick member, and would for a day at least. As she had guessed, blooms of dark purple swirls patterned themselves along her hips. They marked her more thoroughly than the chain at her waist or the collar at her neck. For the first time in her life, they shamed her.

Tauriel walked to him so Thranduil could see her, and he liked to watch. Sometimes, he would demand to watch Legolas take her, making comments that might be confused with reprimands. Sometimes he would join them, angering his son to take out his frustrations on her. The worse it had been in many years was the last Feast of Starlight when Thranduil told her to get under the table and suckle his Kingly cock before the assembly. Legolas had chained her to his bed for days, attaching a leash to her collar if she needed to relieve or wash herself. Of course, that hadn’t stopped Thranduil from taking her body in his son’s bed when Legolas went on patrol. But she had never told the prince that.

“Do you require assistance, my King?” They were dutiful words and softly spoken. He would burke no insolence from her.

“No. You may wash yourself but not your ass or pussy. Leave my seed where I put it.” The Elven King didn’t look at her as he spoke, yet continued washing. Tauriel knew she was dismissed once she was finished.

Courtly games and intrigues, she thought as she clinched her ass to hold in his spunk. The basin at the side would serve her and she made her absolutions quick. The prince was out on patrol and would demand her presence when he returned. His anger would be great that she wasn’t properly cleansed for him but he would know why too. The mind games between father and son were harsh and difficult to navigate when she was right in the middle. Legolas’ possessive nature extended to her, wishing to keep her for himself but he was unable to deny his father who enjoyed nettling his son. The silent war between them had made her body the battlefield. Anger at the both for the life she had not wished consumed her in unguarded moments.

A knock at the door interrupted salacious thoughts. “Come.” Thranduil shouted to the door.

Siriann entered the King’s chambers still in the forest grab. A Silvan like herself, he had been tasked to serve the guard rather than his body used in other ways. There were days she envied them, longed to be one of the forest guard. But that was not her lot in life, not her choice either. His eyes flickered to her, taking in her body’s condition and thus the situation at a quick glance. Tauriel turned back to the basin to finish. Five hundred years put her long beyond this humiliation.

“My King.” Siriann bowed his head. “My Prince has returned with thirteen Dwarf captives.”

“Naugrim.” Thranduil sneered as he continued to wash vigorously. “Have them brought to the jails.”

Siriann bowed before their King but left without another look. He would not acknowledge her for his position was to advise Thranduil of the events that occurred not gap at the royal sex slave. Maybe in years to come when her service was terminated, she might find a mate with someone like Siriann. Hopes and dreams, they were all that she possessed that were hers alone.

“My son will be looking for you, now that he has returned. Attend him this eve.” Thranduil rose from the pool as Tauriel handed him a drying towel. “Remember, your pussy and ass are to remain unclean.”

Tauriel bowed to him, the collar at her neck felt restricting as she swallowed. The Lord Prince would be unhappy and it would fall to her shoulders as a result of the King’s petty nature. Taking the dark green wrap from the chair, she tied it quickly around her hips. The gold and silver links of her belly chain lay over the emerald color, the medallion twisted so that it lay over her mound. Another sign of her status, she walked bare breasted into the hall with her long red hair flowing in her wake. Tauriel, Silvan of the Mirkwood, would have none question or whisper at her back. Let them see her for what she was. A Silvan and proud.

Walking out of the King’s hall, she took the sloping stair to walk by the main Throne room. There was a commotion at the entry that led to the lower levels, a guttural yell of foreign language.   The carved motif of the Forest parted to show several stunted creatures jostling and bellowing at their Elvish captors. Covered in spider silk, their large noses and bushy braids were still noticeable as well as an unwashed smell.

A tall black haired one stood apart from the main group, his appearance and manner startled her to a halt. A blond Dwarf beside him argued loudly with Legolas and others as knives were taken from his person. But the tall dark Dwarf was not so feisty as his companion. Sensing her stare, he turned and for the first time, Tauriel knew the feeling of pure arousal.

The Dwarf’s eyes widened as he looked at her, taking in everything about her from collar to toes. Her breasts peaked at his attention, her nipples hardened to stone points. The warm rush of feeling wound through her nethers as he continued to gaze. He was a Dwarf and yet he stared as if he liked what he saw. He didn’t sneer at her Silvan features or coloring, telling her he didn’t understand her difference. There was a nervous twitch of his short blunt fingers, making her think how they could feel on her skin. On her breasts, in her pussy while she begged him. Yes, she would plead for him. Tauriel could tell by his expression, the Dwarf would like her vocal where Thranduil all but gagged her.

The reminder of the Elven King’s tendencies was a slap of awareness. Tauriel let go of the physical touch of the Dwarf’s eyes upon her to continue on to the quarters of her Lord Prince. It would not serve her to linger, word would reach the King or his son of her lax behavior and the punishment would be swift. She acknowledged the other Silvans she passed, some dressed as she with others in garb of their station. Tauriel kept her head down before the Sindarins. Duty and class demanded compliance and she was a good Silvan to the realm for all her pride. The Sindarins if not for their color then their being separated them from the collared Silvans.

Arriving at Prince Legolas’ quarters, Tauriel took her place in the center of the room to await him. The sparse furnishings were more warrior than royal. The gilded leaves carved into his four poster bed showed age, while its hangings were unitarian in nature. The stacked trunks were brassbound and scared where he would yank them down to rummage through for some forgotten knife for old tunic he once loved. Legolas was an odd prince but still the one she served.

Tauriel didn’t have to wait long as the door opened bang and shut the same way. “Monstrous creatures. Unfortunately, I am not sure if that means the spiders or the Dwarves we found.”

She neither moved nor spoke, her training wouldn’t allow it. Tauriel was his vessel, a receptacle for his desire and her job was to await his pleasure. So, she waited as he charged the room in frustrated energy. A Silvan trait to be so active than to a Sindarin but it wasn’t her place to correct him.

“Remove that! I want you naked!” The command whipped at her from a corner to her right, shaking her suddenly with a feeling a guilt at her thoughts of the Dwarf. Tauriel shivered at the thought of her unclean body.

Legolas walked beyond her withdrawing a long broadsword she had never seen him use. There was guard missing from the hilt but she could see Elven lines in its construction. Tauriel wanted to touch it, to see if the blade was as hard and strong as the scabbard promised. _Deadly_. But she dared not. She was not of that class and weapons were forbidden her. It hurt some days to long for things she was refused.

Removing the long shawl wrap, she let it drop to the floor beside her. Her eyes never rose to his as was proper, however the guilty tremor almost destroyed her posture. “How might I serve, my prince?”

“Spread your legs, and bend at the waist. Hands on your ankles.” The command was terse, giving her a start and an indication on how bad tonight would be for her.

Compliance was immediate, she had no thought to refuse. Folding her body in half at Legolas’ order, Tauriel stood quietly for the inspection that she knew was coming. Her genitals were exposed, more exposed than she ever felt. Her nudity was her armor, the shield for her inner self. They would not see that, could never touch it. Father and son used her body for their pleasure and games but her _fea_ was her own.

The Lord prince’s fingers weren’t gentle when he pulled open her bottom to see his father’s white cum seeping from her used reddened anus. The hiss of anger wasn’t directed at her for Legolas knew she couldn’t refused. He opened her pussy lips, his long slender fingers so like his father’s avoiding contact with the glistening fluid on her furrow. Tauriel knew what was coming as the panting of her prince’s rage became more pronounced. It wasn’t lust, never that, he would never take her where his father had released.

“Did he take your mouth?” The frustration in his body was reaching the boiling point.

Tauriel closed her eyes and sighed. “No, my Prince.”

“Turn around, on your knees. Mouth open.” The snarled command punched in the room.

It wasn’t difficult to suckle him, the prince seemed to prefer her on her knees before him more than his father. Legolas withdrew his cock, longer than Thranduil but thankfully not as thick, to swipe the head just inside her mouth. He smelled of forest and sweat, pleasing as she licked the head then twisted sideways to take more down her throat. The answering groan was the only praise she would get tonight and she just hoped he didn’t use her too harshly so that she could eat without drooling her food in the morning.

Legolas shook as she took his balls into her hand, rolling the pouch gently as she sucked the head. Brown eyes like dark wood came to her mind and she wonder if the Dwarf would taste like if she suckled him until he spent in her mouth. There has to be a better life than this, she thought was her prince’s fingers tightened in her long red hair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Queenmidalah's Line of Girion rocks.. if you haven't read it, give it a try... but it gave me the reverse or perverse idea of Tauriel enslaved to the Sindarins because of her Silvan heritage..
> 
> Thank you for reading !


	3. Adultery AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Princess turned Mistress
> 
> Sigrid and Fili with hints of Kili and Tauriel; Bilbo and Thorin; Bard and Thranduil if you really squint

The wedding was beautiful in a time when most were not.

The sparse years had given many a taste for prosperity now that the Dragon was dead and the Mountain was filled with Dwarves. Weddings in Lake town had been quick hurried affairs with fish served to the family as well as given in bride price. Now Laketown was being rebuilt as Dale swallowed the displaced, swelling with new life. The shadowy town where none had ventured, teemed with life and new purpose.

But so did the Mountain.

The heir apparent, Fili, sister son of the King Thorin II, had taken a bride from another tribe. An alliance it was whispered during the ceremony by those who sat near and cared not for propriety. As she watched them marry and avow themselves before the Throne of Erebor, Sigrid could see what all others murmured behind their hands. The bride and groom did not love the other, in faith, they were barely more than acquaintances. It made no difference for the marriage had been a contract, a strengthening of bonds that bound the Dwarves. Fili might not love his new wife but he took her hand in his none the less.

The reception was a gay celebration. Dwarves drinking with the Men of Dale, Elven dignitaries watching and assessing. Tables had been filled with food from the far reaches, contradictory and inviting. Dwarves had always been thought to be greedy but the bounty laid before the guests was pleasing to the eye as well as the tongue. Music played in a corner of the great hall, everyone dancing and happy from the rivers of ale, wine and malt.

But for all the jovial nature and good fun, Sigrid was a wraith in the proceedings. She moved with a thin purpose and a detached smile. Her forced appreciation was received as dignity rather than haughty disreguard. There was handshaking here, a kiss on the cheek there, Bofur had hugged her waist trying to tug her forward into a round with the rest of the company. Detangling herself from the drunken Dwarf with a caustic smile, Sigrid had enough, wandering from the hall blindly for her rooms. There was no joy to be had when the marriage had crushed all her hopes and flushed her dreams.

Rooms had been afforded to King Bard and his family, King Thorin’s closest ally. Upon arrival, Sigrid had thought them well appointed, warm with a cheery fire. But that was all the nicety that she could utter for it. She wasn’t here for the gaiety below, it was torturous to watch him. _Fili_ , her soul withered at the thought of him. The days they had spent in the meadows around Dale, laughing and enjoying life. The touch of sweet lips on hers made her wish for more, need for more of Dwarven Prince. It was a beautiful love, carefree until she had learned Thorin had bound him for another.

The pain of the news had sent her to bed for a day. A royal announcement rather than a private meeting with her concealed love. Even now, the hollow ache in her soul cried for the Dwarf that was now joined to another. She had not wanted to come, never wanted to set foot in the Mountain again. Bard had understood in a small degree but had asked Sigrid to come as a representative of Dale. The food had no taste, nor did the fine wine. All she wanted was to go home and weep for what would never be.

Looking at the pretty burgundy red dress she wore, Sigrid felt like tossing it into the fireplace. She would never wear it again, forever associating the rich color with her desolation. It would be one less thing to pack, she reasoned. Taking a pair of scissors, she cut the ties, hacking at the skirt then to rip at the lacy bodice and all the while fighting back the tears. At the end of her tirade, a bundle of clippings lay on the floor that was once a pretty dress she had remade from one found in a forgotten trunk left behind years ago. Sigrid felt she left her sanity home in Dale, she could leave a dress behind at the mountain.

In a careless rush, she tossed the cuttings into the flames with a mad glee. The flames licked higher for the simmery kindling, popping when a piece of metal caught the heat. Sinking to the floor, Sigrid watched the heat curl and smoke the material in a grand array until not was left at the bottom but blackened bits that wasn’t meant for this destruction. She was glad it was done, though the dress might have been given away to a soul in need. If only her love for a married Dwarf might end with such efficiency.

The door opened and closed behind her, drawing her away from unhappy thoughts. Seeing Fili at the door, leaning against the wood made her gasp. Quickly, Sigrid got to her feet to take a step away for distance, for propriety. He had shed his jeweled gambeson and gold hauberk, the colors gave him a leonine appearance to couple with his gold and mithril circlet. Looking at him now, he was just a Dwarf in common tunic and trousers. The golden prince attire had chilled her but the common Dwarf warmed her in remembered ways.

“Why are you here? The banquet still goes on.. the…” The bedding ceremony was soon but she had not the heart to finish the sentence. He needed no reminders of what this night entailed.

Fili sighed, looking around the room in despair. “You were not there. I watched you leave.”

Sigrid didn’t reply, not at first. There was no reason to continue this, her heart broke a little more every second he stood there. So distractingly handsome, flesh and blood but more than that, he was the love of her life. No matter how short or long, there was no love like the first one. Sometimes, first love was the hardest to forget.

Releasing the pent up tears, she let them fall but turned her back. “I am undressing, Prince. Please allow me my privacy.” Breathing deeply to keep her voice steady, Sigrid continued. “Your uncle will wonder at your absence.”

The pain in her chest was growing at each word as the tears slipped faster down her cheeks. Red eyes will meet her in the mirror tomorrow morning, not only for the crying but the sleeplessness that would be hers tonight. It wasn’t fair, she thought as she looked at the fireplace, gods above why couldn’t life be fair and let her have her love.

Strong arms circled her waist, giving her a start. The words he spoke heated her chemise to whisper across her skin. “I don’t care about my uncle. Let _him_ sleep with my bride. Tonight, I have my wedding night with you.”

“Fili, no..”

But the rest never came, only the sound of tearing fabric as the Crown prince of Erebor ripped away the undergarments of the Princess of Dale. Thick Dwarven fingers, hardened by war and smithing, rent her corset to snatch it from her body. Those hands freed her breasts, scooping them into a tight handful that made her gasp in longing. She loved these hands, she loved each part of him. The desire for more heated her in unexpected ways, pushing her to wiggle along his solid frame in wanton fervor.

“Fili, this is wrong.”

“No! This is right! It is the only thing about this blasphemous day that has been good and pure!” He swing her into his arms and took her to bed. “I love you, more than my life. No wife will ever change that fact or take this from me.”

He laid her on the bed, kissing her in passion, in love. Sigrid had no heart to protest further, helping him shed her clothes then his own. Fili loved her body, her soul, promising his own. Their hearts joined into one before the summer moon in the dark heavens, before the eyes of the gods she had sworn too. Mahal understood his son and Ilúvatar blessed his daughter.

Sigrid cried in the rapture they shared, wrapping her arms and legs about Fili as if to hold him in place for the rest of their lives. All night, they lay together. He played the maid to her needs, discarding her ruined apparel then bathing her most scandalously in the off chamber bathing closet. But Fili refused to leave her, kissing away her protests, letting his hands quiet her objections. He touched every part of her body, memorizing each mole and scar. Her Dwarf told outlandish stories for his own, regaling her with impossible feats that made her laugh at his bold talk of being worm infested at a Troll feast.

She fell asleep somewhere before the first crow of dawn. Sigrid never saw his tears when he left her, or how he ground his teeth in anger. When she awoke, it was a cold bed that greeted her, disheveled and filthy due to their heated couplings. The pillow still bore his scent, the indentation of a golden head. Wrapping her arms around it, Sigrid inhaled and longed for him once more. Her da would come for her soon and what transpired would not be to any benefit.

Sigrid dressed in somber tones to match her downcast mood. A wedding breakfast was scheduled for the newlyweds, though they was never expected to attend. The dining hall would be full of raucous Dwarrow, teasing each other and throwing food as was their wont. Leaving her hair unbound, Sigrid found her brother as he stood talking to Kili and his Elf maid before they walked into the breakfast together.

As expected the loudest Dwarves were in attendance with the hobbit at the King’s left hand. A Queen’s position, she wanted to snicker but quieted when a few Dwarves of her acquaintance vied for her company. Taking a seat next the solid Balin and his brother, she grabbed a few biscuits from the center as she was quite below the salt. Looking to the high table, she was quite shocked when Fili slipped into his chair at Thorin’s right, clean and braided like any proper Dwarf. Thorin’s sneer at him bewildered the young Princess of Dale, even Dis, Thorin’s sister and Fili’s mother had the good grace to look uncomfortable. The tension of the ruling court ratcheted higher when Bofur shouted to the crown prince that he had to tell his hiding place, because he missed his own bedding ceremony.

Fili laughed along with them but his eyes sought and found hers. Refusing to hold his stare, Sigrid blushed away and turned to Dwalin, asking of her father. The gruff Dwarf bore his hangover as one might a splinter, it was a matter of course. He looked up and down Sigrid, noting her fading blush and shaking hands. Bard, he told her, had last been seen in the company of the Elven King, drinking the sweet wine that Thranduil had brought for the wedding. As one King to another, the Royal Sindarin was the last individual she expected her Da to take as a drinking partner. But all the same, she knew he would make an appearance for the politeness sake.

“My lady, when do you return to Dale?” Balin asked with a reserve that only long years could be attributed.

“This afternoon. Da will stay another day but there are duties that cannot wait in Dale.” Fili and his Stonefoot bride would be paraded about in the next little bit. She didn’t care to see it.

“I will send ask Prince Kili and the Elf to accompany you. He will be into less mischief there instead of heckling his brother.” Balin looked to the high table and Sigrid’s gaze followed his.

There was anger brewing between Fili and his uncle. The whole table knew it and were trying desperately to dissolve the issues. The Hobbit, Bilbo, tugged at Thorin’s sleeve to get his attention to no avail. Thorin II, dubbed Oakenshield to his people was intent upon some point or other that was more important the guests who one by one stopped their conversation to fix their avid gaze upon the combatants that were nose to nose by this point.

Sigrid assumed she would have no opportunity to talk with Fili privately. Today was for him and his wife, not her. Grabbing a few more biscuits, she took the exit as a loud shout began at the side board. Two Dwarves of Thorin’s company ran through the room shaking a white bedsheet between them. The tell tale blood red and yellow stains adorned the white to paint a most embarrassing mosaic. Kili took a chair to stand tall before the others, leading a cheer to his brother’s prowess in the marriage bed. The Stonefoot clan looked appeased while Thorin’s expression turned murderous.

Sigrid’s looked sharply to Fili who was waiting for her to find him. His smile turned sensual giving her a wink that left her almost sputtering. If that was the bedded sheet of his nuptial chamber, had he lain with his wife before he came to her? All the things he spoke and promised, had they been lies to get between her legs?

An Elven voice spoke quietly to her. “Lady Sigrid, I would advise a calming thought. You look both stunned and hostile.”

Sigrid turned to the Silvan Elf, beloved of Kili at her elbow with a hasty jerk. “I had thought to be away before the presentation of the bedsheet.”

It was a lie but not entirely untrue. She had not thought to see a stained one paraded about the hall. Kili’s singing attracted company as Bofur, Ori, and Nori gave up a chorus of mighty Dwarrow whose warhammers blunted before battle. The double ententre was terrible but when the bedsheet sailed passed her, Sigrid felt ill.

The she Elf leaned in conspiringly. “Your pain is understandable. I would not have wanted my bedsheet on display either.”

They watched in dismay as the bedsheet was hung from a hook between the archway by Dwarrow stacked one upon the other. “That isn’t my bedsheet.”

“Of course it is!” Tauriel snickered at her shocked expression. “You think the whole company doesn’t know where Fili spent his wedding night? Why do you think Thorin is so angry?”

“But..How?” Sigrid stuttered.

“Nori.” It was all she said before the Elf turned and left the hall.

***88***

Sigrid left that afternoon with Tilda and Bain in tow. An envelope and two beads were waiting on the dresser for her when she arrived back at her chambers. The same beads that Tauriel wore for Kili. Gold with Durin’s hammer etched in relief. Like the Elf and her Dwarf, she could never be Fili’s wife but she was his heart. Unlike his brother, Fili married a Dwarrowdam to further the line of Durin. One day long after Sigrid passed into her afterlife, he might beget heirs from his wife. But not before.

Braiding her hair into a cornet with the beads at the front, Sigrid made her choice out of love and stood by it all the days that came after, the great and the terrible. Until her death, she was known as Sigrid, Princess of Dale, Entitled One of Fili, Crown Prince of Erebor. Later, it was King under the Mountain. There was love and happiness in their life, with golden roses and enameled petals. But she never regretted and never wished again for anything other than the arms of her Dwarf.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story would have been close to 10 chapters.. I am not a fan of cheating spouses so this is as far as it got.. I had thought to write it as a diary, with Sigrid's daughter reading about the life of her mother. The love, the affair, the choices her parents made, Sigrid getting exiled due to pregnancy and dying at her child's birth..But the elements were too close to a Land of Might Have Been in some ways...


	4. Alternate Canonverse AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Dragon never came, the Arkenstone was never found but a Silvan Elf (Sauron maybe in disguise) assassinated Thror, sparking a war
> 
> Very minor Kiliel..

To see a great nation humbled so, its people subjected to the living death of slavery, it was just hollow in his eyes. Their enforced march before the great iron Gates of Erebor was met with derision by the watching populous who had lost friends and family in the long war. The dejected captives were jostled by the bravest ones who closed in to push against them like wargs snapping at cornered prey. The grace that served them so well in battle was lost in this morbid cavalcade.

The Elves might have been able to able to withstand the invasion to their realm deep in the heart of the forest if the old alliances had held the test of time. They lived long lives here in Arda, with longer memories than the trees that harbored them. But like all things, the bonds between the Elf Kind had deteriorated under the arrogance typical of their race. There had been none to mediate, none who could bring the warring peoples together without bloodshed, not the White council nor any of the Race of Man. So the other races of their world watched and waited for the end to come.

Kili leaned against the merlons that dotted the battlements overlooking the causeway. The survivors of the purge labored up the stone steps as well as they could, their hands shackled to a thick chain running down the center of their line. It looked as though there were ten grouped to each length. Few but not enough to cause problems for the Dwarf at the head. When they had eaten last, Kili couldn’t say but their energy had seemed relentless in battle, now they dragged along in defeat.

The Elves that were of no import and still lived were to be part of the new slave workforce for the halls away from the reception and market areas according to King Thrain’s edict. The Fair folk had been captured in groups of threes or more in the last thirty years since King Thror’s assassination. They had already been pressed into servitude in non-essential areas like the stables or laundry, places that freed up the Dwarves working there for battle companies. Many of the Royal family and high nobles at court could claim an Elf as one of their personal attendants.

Kili exhaled as he watched, his thick iron mail scraping the stone. It had been a week since the last official surrender with a few stragglers being found here and there. His archery company was enjoying the rest in the solid haven of the mountain, having been fighting in the tree cover for the last few months. He felt like he had been out in the wild so long that his studded leather jerkins had been fused to his skin.

The standards of each company that had fought lined the stone walls behind him, as a reminder to the defeated where they were. The material snapped in the wind that blew down the paved walkway, the colors vibrant in the sunlight. Pride filled him as he spotted his company’s near the entrance. A black arrow and a double headed axe crossed under a gold crown on a field of blue. The symbols spoke of their leader, of him and his lineage. His mother was a princess of Erebor while his father was a Broadbeam of the Iron Hills whose axe was never far from his side.

Looking back to the captives, he wondered at their thoughts now at the end of their world. Word had been sent along official channels to the other Elven settlements at the beginning of the war so there was no miscommunication later. If they entered the Greenwood, any Elves found would be considered hostile and the Dwarves would not show mercy. And they had not. King Thranduil had made a very critical mistake with his palace in a cave network in the heart of the forest, stone walls could never keep the Dwarves out once they had understood its particular song.

Oin and Dori came to stand beside him as a few of the more vocal bystanders began to throw rocks at the Elves, shouting at them in Khudzul. Prejudices that had been bubbling before Thror’s murder now exploded in angry curses and random violence against the indentured if they were caught in the open. Like now, Kili could see Dwalin and a contingent of guard hurry out of the gates to protect Gloin as he led the procession inside the mountain.

Oin looked at him close. “They are a conquered people.”

“It is a fact that makes this no less sad.” Kili told him as he watched the last group ascend the causeway, probably never to leave again. Not alive anyway.

“Our King is dead and they are to blame. Dwarf blood, royal or not has stained their hands.” Oin spit over the side at those bedraggled murderers who hobbled their last moments under the blue sky.

As the last group approached the gate, Kili noticed a dusty, dirty one. She or maybe it was a he, their gender was so hard to distinguish unless they were cleaned and groomed. As the dusty one’s head lifted up to the sky, Kili was certain that it was, indeed a she. A beautiful she beneath the layers of grime and dirt. It looked like the female had been dragged for a mile or so to be that filthy. Her forest clothes were soiled, turning the green into an ugly mud color. A long braid, hastily platted if the stray hairs told the story, bound the mass of indistinguishable color from her face to lay across one shoulder.

“There is a measure of Elf blood on my hands too. I had heard that Gloin is going to be in charge of the official sale.” Kili was not in the mood for a philosophical debate with the chief healer of Erebor. Turning the discussion to his brother, Oin would be follow suit.

“He is. Quite proud of it. Lots of responsibility.” Oin’s chest puffed up with familial pride that made Kili smile.

Sons of Groin, Sons of Fundin, all descendants of Durin the Deathless. They had pulled together years ago when the decapitated body of Thror son of Dain, King under the Mountain was found in a hall not far from Royal Quarters. They swore on their blood to destroy the Elves when a red haired Elf was captured at the gates. The assassin had swallowed poison instead of being taken alive but he had screamed that the assembly that it was just revenge for the insult that Thror had dealt unto his king.

But now his King was dead, killed by a Dwarf in the caverns of Mirkwood palace. His silver branch circlet and war crowns decorated the Hall of Kings underneath King Thror’s epitaph. Only Prince Legolas had remained elusive, hidden somewhere in the Greenwood. But he was hunted by more than Erebor and its allies. Dol Guldor belched unnaturally giant Spiders of the Ungoliant line, spinning webs to try and catch the Sindar princeling for the roving bands of Orcs to kill.

Staring at the Elf, Kili ignored the others. What might her life had been? What will it be now? So many questions tripped upon themselves, he didn’t not hear the approach of another until a hand rested on his arm. Kili looked to see his mother, dressed in mourning black for the husband she had lost ten years ago.

“Your brother calls for you.” Her voice was quiet, removed from any emotion. Looking close to her, Kili could see her pupils blown wide with barely any blue present.

She has been taking the droughts again, he thought as he looked at Oin over his mother’s head. Oin, feeling his glare, turned away in shame. Dis couldn’t handle the loss of her husband, turning to droughts to get her through the days. It was hard for him and Fili both to watch her slow decay. Dis wasn’t the princess she had been, now she was a shade with a circlet at her brow.

Kili rubbed a hand over hers. “I will see him directly. You looks so pretty today, mother. Have you eaten?”

Her look turned confused as she turned to the screaming crowds in the vale below. The Elves and the one who drew his attention were almost inside. “You should take one of them. They are slaves now, take one as a son of Durin’s line should.”

“Let’s talk later of such. Come, we will eat and then go see Fili? Yes?” Leading his mother from the balcony, Kili tried to forget the dirty Elf he had seen.

He bore them no malice, not like the others. If he took one for himself, none could say no to him. Not his uncles, nor his grandfather. The past was gone and there was no changing it, all they could do was wish for simpler times.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This would be one of those massive multi chptr fics that would take a year.. Elves enslaved due to their heritage and murder.. Tauriel becomes his slave and things were to happen but again.. very long fic..


	5. First Night AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dark Thorin and angry Sigrid..
> 
> Lots of sex

She would bend, she would not break. She grew up in Laketown for Valar’s sake, she could spend the night with the King under the Mountain and not shack her molars loose!

_But it was so wrong!_

The door to his quarters was open when she walked into the royal suite. Balin had escorted her from the dining hall, with sheepish smiles and a steady stream of conversation. This would require witnesses, that the deed was complete. The Dwarves she saw were not her first choice, why should that be any different than the rest of this nightmare? Dwalin and Dori had a seat by the fire with Fili’s brother, Kili, smoking a pipe in the corner. Fili wouldn’t come, this she knew. He wouldn’t listen to his uncle fuck his bride tonight, no. He had sent his brother who looked no more eager for this than a funeral.

Thorin walked in the room with the same ambled stride of his kin, with decidedly less clothes. Fili had that same walk, Sigrid thought with a grimace, only his hair was sunlit yellow, not the greying black before her. His back was as well muscled as she might expect from a child of Mahal, not imperfect for the scars she saw on him. A pattern of violence that started when a dragon marched into Erebor and slaughtered the Delving’s inhabitants. Scars meant survival to her, she worshiped each of Fili’s that she could and he would allow. Seeing each of Thorin’s, Sigrid began to wish that one of the white jagged lines upon his well formed body had been a mortal wound.

“Still in your wedding finery, princess?” The King asked as he poured a tankard from the sideboard. He, himself had stripped down to a pair of leggings.

Thorin said nothing else, taking the tankard with when he left the room for the bedchamber. Feeling bereft and angry all at once, Sigrid bit back a growl. He was King here, her liege but she wasn’t a doxy or some paid strumpet. Bravery was respected and standing rooted like a tree wouldn’t get this night over with. Letting go of the breath she hadn’t realized she held, Sigrid followed him into the chamber and closed the door. The line in the rock had been either she signed the contract or there was no marriage. One night with the King and the rest of her life with her husband. What was her alternative when she loved Fili from every corner of her soul?

Looking down at the golden confection of a wedding dress, Sigrid had not bothered to change. She had not expected this to take long, maybe Thorin was testing her resolve but wouldn’t actually expect to _have_ her body. Her father had agreed to this shame and it angered her to no end. Fili had blushed during her ravings at the contract stipulations, but said nothing for or against what he viewed as tradition. However, he _hadn’t_ pushed her away last night when she slipped into his bedchamber a day early. Fili loved her, this she knew, as much as she loved him. It was his cock that wore her maiden’s blood, not his uncle’s.

Fili had bore her no ill will, no censure in his eyes when she begged him to take her. In truth, there had been relief in his eyes. He possessed his wife first in defiance of an antiquated custom, assisting her in the breach of his law. The first night belonged to the King, she had been told. She would lay with Thorin as a condition of her worthiness to wear a crown of Erebor. But it wasn’t right, it was not her wish. Sigrid was married to Fili, and she couldn’t acknowledge the right of his kingly uncle to touch her body first.

 _Prima Nocte_..

Sigrid stared at Thorin with the same expression her father had worn when facing down the old Master, resolved anger mixed with mangled pride. The room’s appointments meant little to her, and she cared even less to acknowledge them. Sigrid was strong for the hard life she had led, the misery of it forged her into something different or alike to Dwarves that know held this Mountain again. For her family, she could do this, for the people who would benefit from the trade. If not for them, for the Dwarf she loved. Fili, the one she had taken as her husband. Thorin was only one Dwarf and thankfully, he wouldn’t have the pleasure of being her first.

“Why should I do this? Fili is the one I should be with tonight!” Sigrid cried at him.

There was movement in the other room, a shadowed hand pushed the door open but not all the way. There would be some privacy still, though no direct viewing. Probably Dwalin, making sure she didn’t stab his majesty, King Bastard of a Fucking Pile of Shit!

“I am aware you bedded my nephew you last night when the contract said you were to remain untouched. Now, you will pay the price for that.” His voice was mild, the same tone he had

“I will not!” Sigrid snarled at him. “The contract stated I spend my first married night with the King. It was not stated that I be a virgin. Implication doesn’t work in contracts, ambiguity benefits the signer, not the originator.”

There had been enough red tape in Laketown, Sigrid had become a quick study. It had been helpful when they resettled Dale and trade agreements were needed. By the looks of the tension along the King’s shoulders, she was right and he didn’t like it.

“Nevertheless, you will submit to me or I will hold you down and every Dwarf in my company will have you this night. I care not at any road. But you will be well plowed either way by a Dwarf that is not your husband. Your choice, Princess of the Mountain.” Striking his nerve was a costly enterprise and Sigrid realized her mistake in Thorin’s solid intentions. She wouldn’t win against him on his home ground, he wouldn’t allow it.

With angry jerks, Sigrid yanked away her wedding gown. She would go back to her rooms in a shift for all knew where she was at any road. Better they see her as she saw herself, a girl who was made to whore for the King. Turning away, Sigrid threw the dress on the floor, hating what it bound her too now. Not the Dwarf she loved but to be the King’s concubine for a night.

Thorin took her arm, leading her to the bed, tugging at his lacings. “Well since the dress has come off, I suppose we should get this over with.” It wasn’t kindness, from him but resignation of his duties. Like he was cleaning his boots instead of fucking her.

His pants slipped around his thighs, his cock jutting at her made Sigrid blush. It was well shaped, different than a Man’s but not so much different from Fili’s. There had been nudity before her marriage, she had seen things. Men on the docks in summer, a chance view of a prostitute and a patron. Of course, Fili had encouraged her to explore him. He had had showed her things, touching wherever she liked. It was enough that she didn’t panic but the cold fear still lingered. There might be pain, no matter last eve’s couplings. There had been some last night when Fili had entered her, but a moment only. The feelings he had inspired were completely rapturous.

Thorin took a knife, cutting away the strings of her corset in strong tugs. Twisting away did no good, he pushed her forward to the bed then slapped her ass for the insolence. Hiking her underskirts up around her waist, he cut away her small clothes to expose her nethers to the firelight. Sigrid let of a cry of dismay at the indignity of her position, trying to rise only to be pushed back down. A loud thud grew her gaze to the wooden post of the bed, Thorin had tied the ruined lace to poster like a trophy with the knife above it. Before Sigrid could protest, he parted her nether lips to stroke her most delicate flesh.

He pushed his fingers, first one as an experiment then two, deep inside her. The scrape of rough thickness made her grimace for there was little moisture, clear evidence that she craved none of him. Sigrid wanted to wrench away from this, hit or slap him for the violation. But she submitted, holding her body still. The third thrust had him opening his fingers wide to stretch her, the feeling made her moan slightly. He was readying her for the larger girth of his cock and it made her want to weep suddenly for what she couldn’t change.

“This will never do. You are dry as a bone. Get on the bed.” Thorin ordered as she scrambled away in a relieved huff.

Looking back at him, he was kicking off his pants to join her. “Wait!” She cried but he didn’t, pushing on her back to thick quilts, looming over her in greedy excitement. Taking first one nipple then the other into his mouth to give each a long hard sucking pull, Thorin rubbed his hard cock against her leg. Sigrid threw her head back in surprise, her hands in the sheets to keep them off the Dwarf atop her. He pinched the tips, pulling them then licking the red taut flesh until she moaned behind clenched teeth. The confliction made her tremble, particularly when his teeth nipped under her puckered buds. The warm spiral of bliss coiled in her as he continued to lave at her breasts, his thick fingers pressing her down by the shoulders.

Thorin was good at this, the type of singular attention and focus that gave credit to Dwarven skills in so many areas. His hands, hard and strong, gripped her breasts, pumping the mounds to mold her skin over the roughened beard at his jaw. Tingles of excitement skated in the wake of his facial hair, cold then hot and each unwanted. She wasn’t supposed to enjoy, it was supposed to be a quick hump and she could be out the door. Why was he doing this?

Hands on her hips, he held her while licking his way down her body. Fingers plucked at her hard nipples, tightened still at the attention. Sigrid had stopped breathing through her nose, gulping air by the lung full as she panted. Her body was waking, taking control to scissor her legs in anticipation for the next nip or lick at her flesh. The round indenture of her hipbones were caressed by his teeth, the heat of his thick trunk pressing her deep into the feather mattress. Her body took his heat, flushing red at the wake of his every touch.

Her traitorous legs were already parted for him, active of their own accord with no idea of where to be. Thorin’s head tucked between her thighs before she could stop him, digging into her furrow with zeal that forced from her a shocked squeal. He sucked on her clit, twirling his tongue around it making her shake at the pleasure it gave her. Thorin’s mouth worked her, sucking, nibbling as she drew up her knees to hug his head. His hands sweep down her body, lifting her closer to his agile tongue. She couldn’t remember ever feeling so hot, not with Fili, her husband and their coupling. It was a betrayal that her body respond so wantonly. Last night, she had learned more of the physical side of sharing herself, however this wasn’t a sharing. It was a taking.

Sigrid screamed at it, at him, nonsensical words as her head lulled back and forth. Her hips started driving against his mouth, her hands fisting the bedsheets. Thorin moaned against her pussy, like he enjoyed the taste of her there too. Her mind receded, taking her thoughts along with her choice as her body curled tight in blissful expectation. Plunging his tongue deep into her channel as his thumb stroked her clit, the sound in the room stopped suddenly as the release came to her swift motion.

But he stopped suddenly too.

Backing away from her, Thorin sat back on his knees holding her legs wide. The intensity of her failed orgasm bowed her body, trying to get some stimulus for the ecstasy that was just out of reach. Sigrid’s breath hammered her, a sharp staccato blasts of it almost made her hyperventilate. Eyes wide at the denial, she had to bite her cheek to keep the pleading at bay. Thorin was doing this to her, but she wouldn’t ask for it. She gasped when his hand found his hard dick, stroking it with a sizzling hot expression.

He groaned, handling his member with increasing speed as she watched. The long muscles of his belly were thick and solid, a Dwarf’s body of rough use. There were scars on his thighs but the long curve of his thick cock drew her attention, his hand pumping the shaft. Thorin twisted his palm over the flared head when it erupted, shooting ropes of white semen on her belly. Fili had spent inside her, only after did she see their result of their joining. So much seed, from them both and it was still a shock. Thorin’s body shook as the orgasm claimed him, throwing back his head in abandon.

Closing her eyes, she pulled away from it, trying to distance herself but unable to get away from the ache between her legs. The sight of him stroking the hard flesh affected her, made her want him to stroke her, to finish her as he had himself. The need that rode her made her feel dirty, less for what she couldn’t control. But what was worse, a part of her wanted too, was eager for it. The torrid excitement melted the fight in her, but not her pride. That would be the last, the one that could keep her soul intact after such a night.

She felt his hands, wet from his seed, massaging her breasts and stomach. Writhing on the bed before him, she groaned softly as her body’s arousal didn’t abate but she couldn’t find completion. His hot searching mouth traced her collar bones, sucking hard at the hollows near her neck. She gasped, shifting beneath his thorough tasting. There would be marks, evidence of her being used by him. The slight sharp nips forced her eyes closed at the counterpoint of this nameless want. When his hands dipped between her legs again, Sigrid wiggled closer needing the rougher touch.

Thorin chuckled, licking his way back to her breasts while his fingers tugged gently at her swollen nethers. “On your belly.”

Sigrid started at the command, her thoughts fuzzy from the continued desperation to cum. He rolled to her side as she did was she was bid. There was nothing else for it, but obey. Sigrid wanted him, wanted that cock inside her, to still the monstrous heartbeat that was breaking her thoughts. Thorin got of the bed to walk around the large four poster. She watched and waited for the next indignity to see how much of her soul it would cost her.

His cock, gloriously large and erect so quickly, was right before her face. She could smell his turgid member, a metallic tang at the back of her throat. “Take me in your mouth, Princess. Suck your King’s cock.”

She reached out for the pillar of hard flesh, her own body tightening at the sensation of it. Touching him, feeling the satin covering the stone of his member, Sigrid couldn’t stop herself, getting on her hands and knees to draw him closer. Opening her mouth, she sucked on the tip while he pulled away the foreskin to its base. Pressing her tongue flat at the head, she licked then sucked hard like any doxy on the quay. The dizzying rush of the control Sigrid now possessed over him heated her body in unexpected ways. Her skin tingled with strange, overwhelming waves of desire, the need for more of him deeper in her mouth.

His hands grasped his dick, pulling it away from her mouth. “Use your tongue lower, Princess.”

Sigrid sat back looking at the pouch tucked under his rigid cock then back to his panting expression full of lust. The balls or stones, Fili had called them, allowing her touch and the scrap of her nails. The exam of her husband was most different from the demand to take his uncle’s balls into her mouth. It lick them, roll them around on her tongue. Leaning forward, Sigrid did just that, licked his stones, lapping at him like a cat. The coarse soft texture of his balls exuded the smell of him, coating her face in his scent.

Thorin was vocal, giving encouragement and loud instruction. Digging his fingers into her blond hair, he guided the speed of her mouth, pushing her into his groin to take all of his sack. His dick, weeping from being ignored, bobbed along her cheek until she took him in hand and palmed the head in time with her sucking. The gruff tugging at her scalp became harsh, forcing her to release his stones so that Thorin could feed her his hard cock.

He came in her mouth almost at once. Sigrid moaned as she took the shaft to the back of her throat, lost to the harsh tang of the substance, swallowing it up eagerly. Sigrid traced the fissure of his cock as he moaned her name, pushing her hair away so he could watch each moment of enjoyed debasement. The hot look in his eyes, the taste of his spend on her tongue, on lips had her reaching for her pearl, so hard and aching between her legs.

“No! You will only touch yourself except at my leave!” He bellowed, lunging across the bed. Sigrid cried in surprise but didn’t remove her fingers as she rolled to her back.

Slapping her hand away from her clit, Thorin reached for his belt on the floor. Sigrid tried to back away, sliding across sweat soak sheets to get away from him. But he caught her up, wrapping the belt tightly at her wrists then stabbing the end into the headboard with a knife. Truly bound, she screamed and kicked at him while he batted her legs aside to prevent any damage. Thorin grabbed her at the ankles and spreading her legs wide, exposing her cleft to make her feel her vulnerability. Leaning forward, he tongued her furrow until her screams became pleasure instead of fear. He pushed to her accept the bondage, rewarding her at the same time with the punishment.

The awakening of her senses, the driving need for fulfillment almost made her cry. Her pussy was so saturated he was literally drinking her down. Wanting release, needing an end to this dark pleasure, she would have walked away and mounted Dwalin or Dori in the antechamber like a whore to end the pain. After a few moments of it, Thorin stopped again to rise up between her thighs ignoring her tears and sobbing. Sigrid lifted one leg, hooking it over his hip to rub her pussy against him hungrily. The course feel of his body hair scoured her skin for higher thrill, making her whine for more. Thorin gripped her other leg, encouraging her to wrap her legs around his waist. He plunged inside with one thrust, buried to the hilt. He groaned loudly and she fought to breath beyond the feeling of being so deliciously filled.

Thorin rocked shallowly, crushing her lower body into the bed. Sigrid was caught up, unable to move with him or against him. He held her fast, delving further and further with savage jabs of his hard cock. She cried out with a fierce scream, for as hard as he was using her it wasn’t enough for true pleasure. He knew this, the sly grin twisted his handsome face while he continued to flex his thighs minutely.

Thorin was torturing her, reminding her of the supposed crime by denying her release. The angle of penetration did nothing to soothe the tumbling ache in her loins. The bed shivered for her, anchored to the floor to bear the Mountain King’s congress. He was blowing her mind through her pussy and there was no way to stop it. Sigrid was his subject and he was subjugating her in the filthiest way possible.

She closed her eyes to escape his knowing looks, that knowledge that burned so much away. She wanted this, her hips tilting and retreating, a silent demand for all that he could give her as deep as she could take him. Sigrid could feel his glare, hovering over her was his thrusts maintained a relentless tempo. Tears streamed from her eyes as the speed increased, her whole cunt contracting at the beat. The spiral of her orgasm began, he pushed himself flush with her to change the angle to strike that spot deep inside. Sigrid whimpered, too far gone to do more.

“Do you want to come, Princess?” Thorin whispered darkly, snapping her attention back to him. She shuddered at his voice, the raw longing in it. “I think I will allow it.. for now.”

Twisting her bound hands, she screamed to the ceiling, not caring who heard and even caring less what they thought. “Please, more! Please, do not stop! I want…!” Sigrid thrashed on his cock as he heaved anew inside of her.

He slid in and out of her, the moans and cries filling up the darkness. The pounding of his body to hers, his possession of her cunt left her a mindless mess. She strained, arching against him for that pulse of his hard flesh to keep fucking her. The orgasm found her then, shattering her will to fight him in splintering rapture. The comforting warmth of release was hers at last, her hips still bucking against him as her mind floated away. Once he let go as she had, the hot spurt of his discharge gave her another less powerful shudder of bliss. The staggered gasps for air went on as Thorin collapsed on top of her body to gaze into her eyes.

“You will remember this night, my girl.” He told her, gently brushing away hair that stuck to her sweaty face. “In the deep recesses of memory, you will never forget this pleasure. When your husband touches you, takes your body, you will know it isn’t me. That the pleasure he gives you will never be as great as it is right now. You will long for my bed and the thick cock that made you beg!”

When the dawn split the world and the grumbling started in the antechamber, Sigrid had her last orgasm, her voice long gone from screaming. The spectacle that greeted Dori and Balin when they pushed wide the door to the King’s bedchamber was never spoken but they couldn’t forget the sight. Sigrid, princess of Erebor and Dale, with Thorin’s belt around her neck like a collar, riding the Dwarf King’s cock in her ass for all her worth, while he slapped her asscheek in rhythm.

*******

Nine months later a child was born to the mountain. A stout babe and Dwarvish by every feature. The celebrations went on for the rest of the day and well into the night for a new heir was proof that Durin’s line would continue. None could dispute the child was of the line of Durin but many a bet was laid if the father was the uncle or the nephew.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I saw a a prompt on Hobbit Kink Meme for a first night with Thorin and Tauriel but I couldn't work that out.. so it became Sigrid...


	6. Incest AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fem Legolas and Thranduil... some fluffy Tauriel & Kili
> 
> I am not tagging this as rape but there are some strong dubcon warnings..

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This begins after the dwarves are captured in the forest and Legolas meets an old lover....

It had been an hour, yes. An hour was plenty of time. There was no sense in being eager, that is what got her in such a state of nerves. But how to begin? Where to start? Putting one foot in front of the other to descend into the jails was a very good start, a beginning. Because if she were honest with herself, they two couldn’t go back again to the past. It was a dead as the dragon was living.

Legolas took that hard first step, the next was easier but the pit in her stomach had started to get wider. There was a warg inside, yes! A warg was systematically chewing up her poor belly, her guts, maybe her heart too. There was a definite pain in that region that she didn’t understand. It wasn’t the first time she had felt it, over the years since the Dwarves had abandoned Erebor that old hurt would sneak into her life and catch her thinking about her erstwhile lover. The one who ran away when the dragon came and never sought her after.

He had left her life after a year of being a very important part of it. As if he hadn’t cared for her, and maybe he had not. She was an Elf, Princess of the Mirkwood. What was that to a son of Durin?

“My Lady Legolas?” A voice pulled her from her thoughts when she reached the bottom of the stairs. A familiar voice that surprised Legolas for being here.

The dungeon wasn’t quiet tonight, the Dwarves they had captured in the forest or more like, saved from the spiders were singing disgusting songs of little hairy women. Legolas turned away to search for the cell that contained the Dwarf of her memories. “I had not thought to see you here, Tauriel. Surely my father requires you for a report.”

It had been a gamble to come now, thinking that the Dwarves had been searched and caught up down here. Many of the guards would be congregating for dinner as the shifts changed. It had been a good plan, there was not many guards standing at the eves. Except Tauriel. While Legolas discreetly looked from one cell to the next for the one who held her interest, the Captain of the Guard had found one who captured hers. The Silvan’s leaf green eyes flickered minutely to a cell at the far end, giving away her attention as well as the causing a blush to spread over her cheeks.

Smiling to her childhood friend, Legolas teased. “Come to look for a husband? I recall you liked the look of the Dwarves we used to see in Dale.”

Again the redhead’s eye’s flickered and Legolas noticed a shadow appear at that far cell, a watcher to their conversation. Staring down the line, there were a few others at the metal doors to see the comings and goings of the guard. One with tattoos jerked his cell door with great bulging muscles then rammed his head on the metal repeatedly. Having been in contact with a hard headed male once, Legolas would lay odds that the door would still win.

“That was long time ago.” Tauriel whispered, looking down at her hands. “I was not the only one who found their looks appealing.”

“Sly hussy, off with you! Or I will tell my father you prefer the kitchens to guarding the forest.” Legolas retorted but without the malice. Tauriel knew all of her secrets, even this one that had come home after so many years.

The Silvan laughed heartily but walked to the stairs never the less. The specter at the far cell door, leaned closer to get the last echo of the Forest Captain’s chuckle. “I would dare you to eat anything I make were you to do such a thing.”

A flip of crimson against the pale sandstone was the only signal of Tauriel’s retreat. Legolas huffed in her direction, annoyed at her friend’s banter. She would no more ask for Tauriel’s reassignment than request her own. The pair of them worked well together, their fighting styles synchronized after so many hundred years at battle. Orcs, spiders fell to their slashing blades. Legolas had shown Tauriel how to fight but it was Tauriel who helped Legolas pick up the pieces of her life when her Dwarf left. And there had been so many pieces to pick up.

Leading with her heart and uncaring of the consequences, Legolas walked to the stairs at the far side to find him. The singing took on a grumbling edge when she was spotted, some were hostile like the tattooed one, while others possessed open curiosity. Not unlike what she had exhibited in Dale when a young Dwarf crossed her path, then engaged her interest. Dwarves and Elves in such proximity had been dangerous, but she had been curious which had turned into its own danger.

The one who Tauriel had saved from the spiders and was, Legolas admitted taller than the rest, rushed to the door again when he spied movement on the stair. No, the Sindar princess thought with a smile, I am not she who saved you. The Dwarf’s frown of disappointment made her want to smile wider but she swallowed the urge in an attempt to look stern. The dark Dwarf walked to the back again, moping apparently that Tauriel had left. Do not encourage them, Legolas thought, it will not end well.

Tauriel had not yet picked a male, nor had Legolas for that matter, while the offers had been many. Despite her red hair and Silvan features, several males looked her with covetous gleams but her friend saw it not. Truly, she saw little beyond the end of her own nose or the point of the arrow on her bow.

“Have you been brought water?” Legolas asked the blond covered in spider webs and empty knife sheaths next door to Tauriel’s dark Dwarf. The blond one sat with his back to the wall and didn’t acknowledge her, never looked in her direction.

Stubborn, Legolas thought as she continued. So very stubborn and very unwise. Ahead two guards walked to the upper deck, unlocking a door. More yelling started in their language, a riotous back and forth. One with an axe blade in his forehead snarled some insults that she didn’t understand, combining them with rather interesting hand gestures. She might have stayed, to wonder and figure out what he meant by each but time was not on her side. Seeing their leader, Thorin Oakenshield walking bound out of the jail let her know that her father would be busy for some time in an attempt to strike a deal with the Dwarf King in exile. Of course, she had known him at first sight, too much like his grandfather, Thror to be anyone else save maybe Dain the Ironfoot.

Thinking the rest were on another level, Legolas was almost beyond the row when a gravelly voice stopped her. “Chasing cock in the dungeons now, Princess?”

Legolas frozen at the voice, every nerve ending alive and twitching since she had seen him in the forest. The years had deepened the rumble that would shake his furry barrel chest when he laughed, a life lived to the fullest. A few other things twitched at the remembered pleasure the Dwarf had given her, pleasure that she could not forget all at the sound of his voice. She looked him, pressed as he was against the bars, a prisoner. Legolas’ heart ached at it.

“I came to see if you were well, that you were being cared for here.” Legolas took a deep breath, almost gulping the air at the Dwarf’s angered face. “I wanted to make sure that you had food and drink.”

He had not changed too much, acquired the wrinkles his kind grew with more braids than he had in his youth. Much of his long thick hair was unbound in those heat filled nights, allowing for Elven fingers to burrow into the mass when he took her body and stamped it as his own. Now, there were braids upon braids with clasps of service and meaning that she didn’t know. He had changed where she had not.

“Sullied Elf wench! Ye called me son a goblin mutant! Me wife a horrid creature!” Gloin growled, his red hair bristling.

She looked around desperately at who might have heard his outburst. The fellow prisoners to be sure, some pressed their faces to the door so that they could hear better. “I took it badly to see you carried portraits! I admit, there was no small amount of jealously! You married another…after..”

He had married another after laying with her, after telling her he loved her. Those nights in the forest’s edge, the nooks they had found for privacy in Dale. His hands had a courser edge, grinding her pleasure into moans and rougher sex than she knew that could be possible. The warmth of summer the brisk chill of fall had caressed the Elven princess while she ran like a doe, naked and trembling among the trees from her Dwarven stag. Oh the nights of rut and mating had been fierce. The tumbling down the sexual path tilted her perspective on what giving herself to another might feel like, but it also taught Legolas what she enjoyed and wanted from another.

“Take your woodland pussy to your own kind for I want none of it! I gave up on ye the day Smaug destroyed me home, when your Da turned his back on us!” He snarled at her in hateful fury. This was beyond anger but rage at her for being an Elf.

“That was none of my doing! Gloin, please..” Legolas reached for her long ago lover, waiting him to reach for her too. To want her as he had so many years ago.

“No! Get ye gone, creature! Take the redheaded harlot with ye too! Thorin will have her guts for garters for turning his nephew’s head!” The ginger Dwarf turned his back to stride to the back of the cell, ignoring her completely.

Legolas drew back as if struck by a physical blow, so harsh was Gloin’s rage. She stumbled away to put distance between herself and the Dwarf in hopes that the fires of his wrath would lessen. But it would not, this she knew. Legolas hung her head for a moment, the long white blond strands swinging to cover her face. Dwarves were too stubborn and once they set the bit in their teeth, would refuse to budge. Pleading would do nothing, have no effect on him. He had left Erebor and when he had, Gloin had left behind his love for her.

The weight of her misery wouldn’t allow her to hold up her head, a constant pressure on the back of her neck. The cells were a blur as she walked by, a few of the other prisoners propositioned her for a quick tumble since Gloin had so vocally turned her away. When she didn’t reply, one or two became descriptive which put the spring back in her step, hurrying her along the path to the stair. The tears were falling freely by the time she found her rooms.

The bed of her long years wasn’t the solace it once was. Quartered down the hall from the royal apartments, it wasn’t the same as it had been when Tauriel roomed with her. The Silvan would pull her from her funk, cheer her up for listening to a Dwarf that she hadn’t seen or talked to in a hundred years. But she still carried that torch for him.

Undressing quickly, Legolas washed her arms and face, letting the water drip down her body. Taking the rag, she circled the small breasts, under her arms. She remembered his words from that time, calling her his glowing pearl. The feel of her hands on her body was ghostly compared her memories, the sharp reality of the aching drive to have her ginger Dwarf, to know the full sensation of his thick cock stretching her. Tauriel had run interference then, covering for her or changing shifts so that Legolas could go to Dale for a tryst with him. Gloin’s master worked in the city as a representative of the Mountain, staying there for days at a time.

The hunger for release began to drum under her skin, her heart pounding the blood to flush her body and cheeks. A year of as many meetings, the relentless yearn for her crimson mate to give her the pleasure that he had awakened. So many years of dormancy, a sheltered life here in the forest, spawned a crop of desire that confused her as much as it titillated. Why there were times she would go to Dale without small clothes, wanting Gloin so badly that the barrier was little more than an irritant.

Oh but the loving between them.

The rampant congress of him taking her against a wall, bent over a stool, basically anywhere he wished made her folds ripen with constant arousal. The long trip back to the Elven halls would see her drunkenly listing, or worse barely able to close her legs for the harsh ride he would give her. But Legolas never complained, always going back for more of him. The bruised rosettes that he fingers and mouth left on her body were cherished and lovingly traced until they faded.

Pulling a haltered green shift, Legolas lay down, her thoughts still on the Dwarf of old times and tried to reconcile the aged one he was now. His cock had ruined her, made her long for him, like now. Memories for an Elf were never far, always in the background. Legolas let her fingers glide down her body, scratching at her nipples the way Gloin would. She moaned, unable to help the wanting as her back bowed up for more. Like in old times, she had welcomed the pain, yearned for it to push the pleasure higher until she burned with it. Her nipples hardened like the diamonds of her father’s gems, beaded tight against the material.

Legolas let her fingers find the seam between her legs, the hairless folds that intrigued Gloin so completely. He had talked of Dwarrowdams having braids down there as on their faces, with beads that rubbed against their clits for daily stimulation. The eroticism of no hair at all was almost a perversion to him yet, he still licked her pussy with amazing dexterity. Fantasies of Gloin on his knees, licking her to peak after peak was some of her more prevalent musings. It was no wonder her flesh slicked so quickly.

So lost in the world of sensual remembrances, Legolas didn’t know her father, Thranduil had entered her rooms until he dropped his wine goblet. The clatter of metal on stone yanked her from her thoughts to see none of her father in the Elf at her door but every inch the Elven King. His pale gaze travelled her body to stare at splayed legs and pumping fingers.

“I heard that you went to the cells, now I find you with your hand in your quim like a strumpet! Couldn’t get stuffed hard enough with the metal door in the way?” Thranduil was drunk, Legolas could smell the alcohol on his breath when he leaned down to grab her. Roughly, he tore the shift from her body, pushing her to stomach then up to her knees.

Her backside was in his view with no small clothes to lessen the sight of her engorged pussy. Legolas had been idle, not pressing for her release. She had been more maudlin, lost in thoughts from that long ago time, to push for her peak quickly.

“Please father, don’t.” She begged, tears of humiliation sliding down her face.

“Shut it. I cut you from my house like a diseased limb from an oak. You will be Legolas the unwanted, just look at your shame! Your crotch is fair dripping for that hairy scum!” To emphasize the point, he pushed two fingers into her pussy but it wasn’t for pleasure. Though it was for Legolas who had been with a lover since Gloin.

“Ada! No..” She sobbed just as ashamed for her wants as he would have her be but exile was death.

She felt the spank, hard across her right buttock. Legolas squealed in surprise as her ass felt a burst of heat and pain. He had not struck her since her maturity, removing himself completely from her training as a warrior. The rustling at her back was heard and dismissed, thinking he merely took a different stance. The spanking was odd, her father’s hand staying to drag the pain out by digging his long fingers into point of contact.

The next strike was exactly the same, except suddenly she felt the tip of his cock, thick and hard, pressing into her. Again, he backhanded her bottom, making her gasp so much for needed air to clear the fog of wanting that was taking control. Gloin used to spank her like this too before he fucked her, so unforgiving and desperate.

Did she want this? Could she want…Thranduil cut into her thoughts. “How could I know I whelped a bawd?.. Down in my cells, begging for Dwarves like a trollop. If you are going to act like a slut, then you shall be treated like one!”

Suddenly, the dynamic changed. The pain of each spank was the counterpointed by the smooth sensual glide of his cock, moving inch by torturous inch inside her. Oh, so long, so very long since Legolas had felt the delicious filling of a hard male at her back. The sensation of it had her crying all the harder. But Thranduil was her father, this was incest, it was so wrong by every standard that the Valar had taught them! She shivered as the emotions blurred to a chaotic frenzy of high-pitched desire.

“Ada!” Legolas screamed, as he started to thrust harder, his deep penetration and hard slamming thrusts replacing his palm.

“Yes,” her father moaned in her ear, “scream for me, little whore.”

He covered her, reaching around to cup her breasts then with sinister fingers twisting her hard nipples. He groaned aloud, his pace frenzied as her bucking motions against him turned brutal. “Oh so you like the pain?”

The feel of his chest against her back, the heat of his hips against her heated buttocks, the sharp pressure at her tits shoved away her concerns and annihilated her worries. “Yes! I do, Ada. So good!”

Passion clouded her mind, but the quick loss of his dick made her gasp. Thranduil wrestled her to her back once more, pushing Legolas’ knees to her breasts to open her genitals wide. The snarl on his face rippled the skin, his cock finding its way into her twitching pussy. _Harlot_ , he hissed at her, _slut, dishonored, whore_. Each word was punctuated by a hard thrust. But Legolas couldn’t look away and not see the look of utter frightening bliss of the Elven King.

The wonderful feel of his hard thick member inside her eager cunt, her father’s cock. _Her Ada_. Reaching to him, the wafting smell of wine assaulted her but she grabbed the long strands of his hair anyway. Yes, she loved Gloin once, now she wanted her father. She needed this sharing, the pleasure he made her feel. The final taboo was so much worse than humping a Dwarf, the obscene sucking noises from her cunt that failed to hold him in it wet grasp. The orgasm exploded through her like a lightning strike, and she shrieked in pure animal rapture. The bass hiss of his release blended with hers, his hips jerking hard to leave his spunk inside her.

They fell to their sides, spooning and sweaty. Legolas tried to swim out of the drowned sensation of haze while her body throbbed, her channel still milking Thranduil’s softening dick. His breath was in her hair, his body still so close. Her Ada had filled her, his girth sealing the seed within. A disgraceful thought occurred to her as Thranduil’s hands slide down her belly to her peeking clit.

_Why walk all the way to the cells for a Dwarf who forsaken her when Ada’s cock is so much closer?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I might want a shower now, feeling kinda dirty.
> 
> Basically the story was along the lines that Fem Legolas spent the next weeks in Thranduil’s bed but took the banishment to the Rangers to find Aragon like in the movie. Later on she met Gimli and the whole quest took place with her shagging Gloin’s son at every opportunity. Once you go dwarf….


	7. Femslash AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tauriel and Sigrid..  
> Tauriel and Kili mentioned 
> 
> femslash sexuality with voyeur details...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For my pal Batty who started this but gave it to me to finish...

Da had been specific, very very specific. Bain was to watch his sisters, the older and the younger.

Tilda, Bain could understand. She was a child still, running down the streets of Dale to chase after ducks or child or whatever. Tilda was the baby, the last child born to Bard the bargeman and he lost his wife in the process. Tilda had no memories of their mother, making Bain feel all the worse for it. His baby sister wasn’t to blame but a shadow crossed her face when their mother’s name was mentioned, chasing away her happy thoughts. No, Tilda always needed watching and Bain could do that.

But it was his older sister, Sigrid that he didn’t understand. She was almost a woman grown, still carrying knives in her boots like the old days when they lived upon the lake. His sister was wicked with those blades, turning them on any who trifled with her or her siblings. Sigrid was older then him by a few years, her age and hard life giving her a maturity of an adult. So why, Bain thought, did their kingly father want Bain, a lad with a few hairs on his chin, to watch after her?

He got the answer right enough one day, most excitedly. It had started to rain in the middle of the day, a hard downpour that swept everyone inside. Summer showers poured from dark knotted clouds to cool off some the oppressive heat. The Dwarves had come down from the Mountain to meet at the Council Hall, the Prince Kili and his Elf consort along with a few others. There was a fair amount of Orc weapons that had been gathered after the Great Battle and many wanted to repurpose them into instruments of necessary value. The Dwarves held the mastery of all things metal were asked to consult on this situation though they were loathed to touch what they considered to be foul steel.

Bain had the misfortune to fall into a wet slop pile behind one of the inns to get covered in rotten food and gruel. Picking himself up, he knew there was no way his father would allow him back with the ale barrels he had been sent to retrieve for the refreshments. Even in the rain, he smelled foul. Pushing away the last of the fetid waste, he hopped over puddles to take an alley that led to the home Bard took for his family.

The House of Girion crest stood proud over the door, a long ago relic of his family line. The house had belong to his ancestor Girion and Bard took it back as King of Dale. Three stories tall, it rose into the murky clouded sky, an amber fist against the darker storm. Bain couldn’t say he cared for it that much, but at least there wasn’t the ice cold drafts like their shack on the Lake. The only real worry he had now was keeping his promise to his Da and staying out of trouble. Oh, and trying to keep an eye on the sisters.

The kitchen was quiet where normally it was the heart of the house with loud voices and broad smiles. Milla had taken the job as cook and housekeeper, a job she worked with militant efficiency. Looking around the room, the oven was cold and the pantry closed. Grabbing a basket from under a work table, Bain stripped down to his small clothes to put aside rather than face the wrath of the women if he tracked muck through the house. He left the full basket by the door but grabbed a blanket for modesty’s sake. Flashing his family was one thing, flashing a guest was bad manners.

He took the back stairs slowly, listening as he went for signs of anyone in the house. When he reached the landing to head to his bedroom, a gasp behind him made Bain freeze like a scared rabbit. Thinking that he had shocked Milla or Tilda, he turned slowly to find that he was alone in the hall. No one was there at all. Lightning flashed in an outside window, whiting out his vision for a split second and sparking the air around him.

He turned to walk to his room when he heard it again, a gasp but a moan attached to the end. It was the kind of sound he heard at the dinner table when Milla cook something especially tasty and everyone dug in with relish. Looking down into the gloomy hall, Bain saw a light flickering in the cracked seem of Sigrid’s door. Confused, he walked to it, drawn like a moth out of curiosity because he was sure he had left his sister at the Council Hall talking to the she Elf. Who could be in the house or oddly yet, in his sister’s room?

He crept down the hall, dancing in spots to avoid the creaky boards that every old house possessed. He knew them all, from times sneaking up to scare his sisters. The door was slightly ajar, two inches that told him nothing of what was happening in the room at this distance. Wondering if maybe she was ill, Bain squelched up his mouth at the idea of seeing his sister using the chamberpot.

A bed creaked and the moaning started again, a husky groan followed that was decidedly out of place. Bain wanted to slap his face at the idea that spring to mind, please Valar not have let Sigrid sneak out for a tumble with one of the lads, or worse one of the Dwarves. He would have tell his Da and there would be a sudden wedding in the family to cover the shame of his sister’s illicit activities. Now, _his_ stomach rolled at the idea of what was happening in his sister’s bedroom.

Easing down slowly, Bain wanted to curse his father for asking, then he wanted to curse his sister for making him tell. As he peered into the room, the shock of what he saw almost made him swallow his tongue. A long groan broke the counterpoint of the bedposts rasping in their joints, unintelligible Sindarin flew out in chanting refrain.

The Elf, Tauriel was on the bed with his sister and both of them were naked!

What was worse, his sister’s face was between the Elf’s thighs, moving in rhythm to the hips that snapped and revolved around her working mouth. Tauriel gasped, her head thrown back in contorted ecstasy when Sigrid lifted her hips higher to twist her face side to side. The sucking sounds began taking the Elf woman’s cries to a higher pitch.

The long column of her pale throat sparkled in the candle light, changing the tone from white to almost golden. Her long hair lay in a current of fire down one shoulder, darker still against the flesh of her torso. It was the rock hard tips of her nipples though that drew his gaze, like ruby cherries atop her creamy breasts. So beautiful, he thought, as her flesh thrashed along with her body. The slim line of her stomach was a taut plain of muscle, sweat slick and enchanting.

Reaching out, Tauriel grabbed a handful of Sigrid’s hair, pulling her deeper into her furrow. “Yes, Sigrid, Yes! I’m going to peak! Please! Oh, please!”

Bain found himself clutching at the doorframe for balance, almost falling forward into the room as the she Elf wailed her release. Her hands dug harder into his sister’s hair, locking her there as her hips gyrated around the blond’s questing tongue. Never, had he thought women might do this! Two women having sex? Men, he heard of, caravans on long trips might single a man out as the company grotto but a woman pleasuring the other?

Sigrid let go of Tauriel’s hips to allow them to fall shallowly to the mattress. She rubbed her lover’s thighs in circles as the Elf came down from her high pleasure. He had seen his sister naked, their lives had been stacked one upon the other in Laketown but this was different. Sigrid sat back on her heels, touching and kissing the Elf’s legs and licking up her belly. Her breasts were larger, fuller compared to Tauriel's with hips that flared from a tucked waist. Where the Elf wore no hair to cover her pussy, Sigrid’s was lush and glistening. The springy curls were a darker blond than her head, matted to her swollen folds in flushed excitement.

Sigrid traveled the Elf’s body, knowing it from previous journeys of the interesting depravity. She kissed here, nipped there, tugged on a stiff nipple only to lick the sting away as the Elf signed long to enfold her arms about the Princess of Dale. They kissed slow, first with lips then tongues. Tauriel’s tongue licked in kittenish strokes up his sister neck, tasting her own arousal on another’s skin.

“How like you my husband’s leavings?” Tauriel asked as her long fingers searched down Sigrid’s back to grip tightly at her bum. “He wanted of me before we left the mountain, and I couldn’t wait to share with you.”

“It was still there, his spunk. I can see why you cleave to him.” Sigrid murmured, rubbing her full breasts against the smaller chest of the Elf. “Like metal, but I can still taste the greenwood and the wind in your essence.”

They kissed again, deeper, clutching each other close. Bain felt cold all at once but hot too, his body confused at what temperature it should be. They writhed together on the bed, hands seeking and finding, touching, gripping. Bain tried to breathe shallowly, but realized he was panting harder than the women were. Tauriel wasn’t married to the Prince, Thorin refused it but she was his accepted consort. So why was she in bed with Sigrid?

“He cares not that you come to me?” Sigrid asked as she moved back to Tauriel’s nipples, twisting one while she sucked the other.

Tauriel panted as she gripped harder. “He cares little, for you have no cock. Kili made comments of watching us together.” The words were indifferent as the Elf leaned back to further enjoy his sister’s mouth on her body. “You should marry Fili, or be his consort.”

Sigrid laughed, drawing away from the tit in her humor. “Why ever should I?”

The Elf framed Sigrid’s face and smiled. “I could be your bedmaid when they are away. There are many ways of loving we have yet to explore.” Tauriel kissed her again, softer with time with a gentle bite at her lip. “You would be so ready for your Dwarf each night, begging him for his thick cock as I do Kili.”

Her words inflamed Sigrid, taking the control of the kiss and twine her legs around one of Tauriel’s. She bucked, gridding down on the strong muscle she had captured. The Elf pinched and tugged at Sigrid’s nipples as her cries took a frantic edge. Never had he seen such, or know his sister was capable of this.

Suddenly the Elf forced Sigrid on her back, her body bowing up to Tauriel as she groaned. The Elf smiled in predatory way. “No, I want to taste you again, sweet Sigrid.”

When the Elf dived between his sister’s wide spread legs, Bain had enough. Easing away from the door again, he walked in blanked shock to his room. The hall was filled with Sigrid’s pleas and groans, much more vocal than the she Elf had been. Bain felt a prickle of something only to realize he had his hand down his small clothes, grasping his solid member in a death grip. His brain woke up to the action and he almost became sick at it. That changed when his sister found her release and his hand sped up, pulling hard at his dick.

He had no idea what he was going to tell his father.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my first foray into femslash situations...The scenes were already written, I just tweaked them the slightest bit to keep the spirit of the story intact...

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own this, I am just taking the characters out of their packaging and roughing them up for fun!
> 
> thank you so much for giving it a try; kudos are most appreciated and comments are replied to asap...


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